


Cullbastian ficlets

by cullenlovesmen (handersmyheart)



Series: Bi!Cullen fics [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Broken chastity vows, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wild West AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 10,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handersmyheart/pseuds/cullenlovesmen
Summary: A collection of unrelated Cullbastian ficlets I've posted on myTumblr. The relevant tags are in the chapter names.





	1. PG-13, UST, flirting

Sebastian wasn’t born yesterday. In fact, he had lived quite a colourful life before his parents placed him in the Chantry. To tame him, they had hoped. It had worked better than anyone could have expected; the Chant had reached his heart, devotion had awakened within his soul, but. But he hadn’t truly changed. Not all of him, anyway. The desires of his mind remained the same, his body was still that of a young man; uncontrollable, hormonal, beast-like. 

So when the handsome young Templar stopped to watch him target practice, he puffed his chest and arched his back - he could be quite a sight to behold, he knew. He shot a few bulls-eyes in rapid succession, finally turning to smile at the blonde with a twinkle in his eye. Cullen, was it? A recent addition to the Gallows, he recalled, having seen the man in attendance of Chantry services.

“That was beautiful,” the young man said, a shy smile gracing his beautiful face. 

Oh, what a sweet boy. What a perfectly lovely smile, and such a cute little blush on his cheeks, too. If he had met him in his old life, he would have already been sitting next to him, trying to convince the amber-eyed lad to join him at the pub later on. A wave of regret briefly washed over him; those days were gone for good and Andraste was his only one now. But surely that didn’t mean he could never flirt with another being. What could be the harm in that?

“What, me? Or my archery skills?” A crooked smile curled his lips, his posture regal - like a peacock with his tail spread, he imagined. His white armor shone in the bright daylight, complementing the dark tone of his skin, the blue of his eyes penetrating in the sun. Pride was a sin, but the thought left him as soon as it had been formed. 

The young Templar sputtered, his flush deepening, eyes darting wildly from side to side. “I, uhh, I mean, three bulls-eyes,” he laughed nervously, finally settling his gaze somewhere near Sebastian’s boots. “Good shooting. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

The blonde hastily got up, a polite smile on his face as he retreated, darting a quick gaze at Sebastian. 

“I’ll see you around… Cullen,” he grinned, enjoying the effect his words had on the young man. Maker, he would have to do a lot of praying tonight.


	2. PG-13, Kissing, implied broken vows

Cullen knew enough about Sebastian’s past - or so he had thought. They had played a game of hide and seek, each in turn retreating from the line that could not - should not - be crossed, circling one other for over a year now. Tonight, however, Sebastian had invited him to his quarters, and Cullen couldn’t say no. The word was missing from his vocabulary and he couldn’t summon it even if he tried. He did try, but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t try very hard at all. 

He found himself on his back in Sebastian’s bed, the weight of the archer pressing him deep into the mattress, his lips feverishly mapping every inch of his body. Sebastian’s eyes, usually so calm and benevolent, burned with determined intensity, and Cullen wondered - in passing, dazedly - if he really knew the man at all. But Maker help him, he thought, grabbing his head by his hair and pulling him to a crushing kiss, he liked it.


	3. PG-13, Angst, unrequited love, pining

Sebastian has watched Cullen for years now. He’s grown sensitive to people during his time in the Chantry and the appearance of the new face at a sermon had drawn his attention. Something about the young man had seemed wrong - very wrong indeed - but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it at first.

He seemed rather normal on the first glance - calm and measured, if a bit on the awkward side. But when you observe him with his guards down, you can see the cracks in the façade. The way his hands tremble against his armor, how he gets lost in thoughts when he’s alone for a mere moment. A shake of his head, barely perceptible, an exhale Sebastian can almost hear as Cullen forced himself back to the real world.

The years that have passed haven’t healed the man, but the walls erected around him have grown. It’s become increasingly rare to see him struggle for self-control, but Sebastian can tell that the wounds have only festered and the pain and anger have become a source of his strength.

There’s steel in his eyes when he’s on duty. Sebastian has seen it while walking past him in the Gallows. If he catches you looking, he’ll emanate self-assured confidence, the dignity of a man whose backbone you can rely on. His posture is straight and rigid, demanding respect from his knights and charges alike.

But deep down inside, Cullen is broken.

Just like Sebastian himself used to be. The reasons are probably different, but the end result is similar. Damaged goods. That’s what Cullen no doubt considers himself, that’s what he’s likely to reduce himself to when he’s laying down to sleep. 

The only survivor of a particularly nasty group of blood mages. A man haunted by his past, skittish and troubled. So the rumours say, and the more time Sebastian spends looking, the more convinced he is that the stories must be true. 

He watches the way Cullen’s lips twitch at certain passages of the Chant - an involuntary reaction, subtle but there for those who have the will to see. He observes the steel forming in his eyes, overpowering the dampness that tries to break free. The shell of a hard man encasing a scared little boy underneath it, concealing the sores and wounds he hides behind his mask.

When he talks to Cullen, gentleness and understanding in his tone, he sees how the man is fighting not to run away. Unused to kindness, undeserving of sympathy. Cullen’s words deflect his own, skillfully drawing his attention on something else - anything but him.

Cullen is a man who doesn’t know himself. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. His thoughts and ideas are conflicted, his sight obscured by the ghosts of everything he’s experienced. He wants vengeance, but he doesn’t know if he deserves it. He wants friendship and love, but he no longer knows what they feel like.

So he settles on fear-induced respect instead. Because it’s better than nothing, it’s better than being in pain. It’s infinitely better than he himself being afraid. Maybe if they fear him, the scared little boy will calm down.

Maker, what did they do to him?

Sebastian wants to reach out, to cup his cheek and speak of forgiveness. He wants to sit down, guide the man’s head in his lap and pet his hair, provide just a moment of security, an escape from whatever haunts him. To help him see that sometimes shadows are just shadows, that not every corner holds a dark secret.

That he can find peace in the Maker’s bosom. That he can have kinship, understanding, and love, if only he would allow it. That if he let him, he would embrace him as a whole, scared little boy and hardened templar alike. That with time and careful attention, he, too, could be mended. That his precious soul still shines bright enough - that he’s worth the effort.


	4. Rated R, UST, masturbating, flirting, pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon ask:
> 
>  
> 
> _"I hope to see you at the confessional booth this evening." To say Cullen was surprised was an understatement - the purr of Sebastian's voice is so close to his ear, a tone that no man of bodily and mindly chastity should possess, that Cullen swears he can feel the brushing of lips against his earlobe. "I've been led to believe you've committed sins that I could have you repent for only in privacy." It takes Cullen precious seconds to understand, precious seconds with the holy man standing tantalisingly close to him, just what Sebastian really means. The blond's mouth opens with little more than a resulting stutter, trying to find the right words to explain the fog in his mind, the sudden tightness of the armour around his groin-- and Sebastian is gone. He walks with a maddeningly attractive sway of his hips, so subtle that an innocent passerby wouldn't notice. It takes a concerned Chantry sister to get Cullen to move from where he stands._

Cullen doesn’t go. 

He goes back to the Gallows with the others, only uttering a simple yes or no when talked to, his mind entirely elsewhere. 

He could be in that booth right now, listening to that alluring voice, discovering exactly what the Brother had in mind for him. Had he really been so unsubtle as to get caught staring, or was Sebastian just very perceptive? He hadn't meant to do anything - he couldn’t afford the distraction inevitably brought on by desires of this nature. Not now, perhaps not ever.

He closes the door behind him, shedding his armor and flopping down on his bed. His hand travels southward, taking its time before finally wrapping around his semi-hard cock.

This is alright. This is simple. This is not a distraction - this is a human need that has to be fulfilled.

Oh Maker, _Sebastian_.

Cullen can still feel the ghostly sensation of those lush lips brushing his ear, the memory alone sending shivers down his spine. Oh, how he had ached to feel them against his own, to just turn his head and take them, right there in the Chantry with dozens of eyes to witness his fall from grace. He would grab the man by his hips and push him against a door, a wall, anything really, never breaking the kiss.

Yes, he had been watching. For years now. How could he not? Sebastian was attractive, kind, and wise beyond his years. His laughter was infectious, his eyes captivating, and the sway of his hips… Cullen let out a moan. If he could have him, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull him to his lap, to bring him snug against his chest and slip his fingers underneath his smalls, dragging them down further until they were at–

Cullen spills on his hand, a soft sigh escaping him. He relaxes on the bed, catching his breath until he can’t put off cleaning after himself anymore. This is alright. He has everything under control. It feels like a lie, but it isn't. It can’t be.

—

How wrong he was. The blue eyes of the Brother drill into him as he kneels before the altar with his fellow Templars. The service has only just begun, but he barely catches a word Grand Cleric Elthina is saying. 

_“I hope to see you at the confessional booth this evening.”_

Maker, that voice. It haunts him day and night, penetrates his dreams with its exquisite promise. He shifts in his place, feeling trapped by his armor and pinned by the unrelenting stare. It has been only a week since the encounter, but Cullen doesn't know how he’s to manage another one. Shame burns in his gut as he raises his eyes to meet those of Sebastian. The disappointment he sees in them has his blood running cold, and.

And he knows. If Sebastian would try again, just one word is all it would take to have him falter and fall. One word, and Cullen would do anything - fall at his feet, beg him for forgiveness, submit himself in a blink of an eye - anything at all to break this terrible spell he is under. He can’t sleep, he can scarcely eat - it’s as if a flood gate was opened the moment the Brother propositioned him, and he’s reduced to fighting in vain as the water level rises, ever higher.

He closes his eyes, praying that Sebastian will seek him out before he drowns.


	5. PG-13, Fluff, kissing, established relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fluffy ficlet takes place in the same world as my upcoming Cullbastian longfic. That's all I want to disclose right now... (✿⊙ᴗ⊙)

The castle garden was deserted, the crescent moon casting its weak glow on the grass, blending the dark green with its ghostly silver. The large tree at the center of the garden was uncharacteristically silent, its winged inhabitants having retired for the night. Sebastian lay beside him, his warm body pressed against his side. The smell of grass filled his nostrils, and while it was nice, he buried his face in Sebastian’s hair in pursuit of something better still.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

“No,” Cullen whispered, rubbing his temple with the tip of his nose, “I never gave myself permission to hope.”

Sebastian’s hand captured his, bringing it to rest on his stomach. “All my life I wanted what I couldn't have. Power, influence, attention,” he mused, rubbing at his palm absently. “But when I first saw you in Kirkwall, I knew I'd be happy if I could just make you smile.”

Cullen chuckled, low and embarrassed, his lips brushing at Sebastian’s earlobe. It was hard to get used to such affection after everything he’d been through, and harder still to think he deserved any of it after what he’d done to him. He waited in silence, breathing in the scent of him.

“I never thought I could have more than that,” Sebastian continued, his voice soft and slow. “I never thought I could be the man that has it all. But by some miracle you’re here now, and I sit on the throne against all odds. The Maker has truly blessed me.”

There was nothing he could say to match the words, so he stayed quiet. Inching closer still, he basked in the warmth of his prince, the tendrils of the night’s chill unable to grip him. There was a time when he would have cast his eyes to the sky to observe the stars, but his attention couldn't be loaned for such noble pursuits. The man next to him had him enraptured, and he couldn't help but praise him - in actions, if not in so many words.

“You deserve everything,” he finally murmured into Sebastian’s ear, pressing his lips to the curve of it. “I don’t know why you insist on having me, but you always will.”

“Oh, but I do insist,” Sebastian turned, a broad smile on his face. “I don’t know what more I can say to convince you, _leannan_ , but I can always try and show you that I mean it.”

The garden was hushed and the air still as they kissed. The night stars shone high above them as they lay on the grass, their bodies tangled in an easy embrace. The high walls protected them from the biting winds storming in from the cliffs, the stony arms enveloping them in their safety. There was no rush, no desperation, and no reason to hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	6. NC-17, ABO, smut, broken chastity vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chastity wasn't meant for Omegas that frequently found themselves amidst Alphas that were raw to the touch, their breathing staccato by the mere presence of such that smelled as good as he did. It wasn't that he couldn't have resisted if he put his mind to it - no, he could have said no - but he found himself unwilling to do so, for resisting the nature the Maker Himself had programmed him with seemed sacrilegious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick fill of this kinkmeme prompt: " **Sebastian getting fucked.** Like, I'm just really fond of him taking it up the ass. Anyway, anyhow. Pretty please?"

Chastity wasn't meant for princes - even less so for ones such that happened to be omegas. Sebastian did his best: he performed his daily chores, spent long hours in prayer and contemplation, and tried not to question every word falling out of Grand Cleric Elthina’s mouth. His faith in the infallibility of the Maker was unshakable, but the same couldn't be said for the organization upholding His worldly representation. 

So when his eyes met those of Knight-Captain Cullen, who was praying with a group of templars under his command, he gave the barest nod with a hint of a smile, the thick slick already gathering deep inside of him. It was a decision he had made many times before - one he couldn't quite bring himself to regret or to seek forgiveness for. 

\---

Chastity wasn't meant for Omegas that frequently found themselves amidst Alphas that were raw to the touch, their breathing staccato by the mere presence of such that smelled as good as he did. It wasn't that he couldn't have resisted if he put his mind to it - no, he could have said no - but he found himself unwilling to do so, for resisting the nature the Maker Himself had programmed him with seemed sacrilegious. 

The thought faded as Cullen pressed his chest against the bed with a firm but gentle hand. “Omega, present,” the man commanded, the tone of his voice soft for such a request.

His hips rose to brush against the man’s erection as if by their own accord. He’d been left to his own devices for too long to tease; his Alpha lover had neglected their pact while being engaged with the duties of his Order, sufficiently apologetic about doing so, but the matter of his unfulfilled state remained.

His hand cupped the side of Sebastian’s buttock, drawing it apart from its twin, a breathy exhale leaving him. “I’m-- I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

“Just fuck me,” he snapped, utterly not in the mood for the man’s tender apologies - not when he lay there, streaming with his own fluids and well past ripe for the taking. 

“I-- uhh. Of course, love,” the man stuttered, rushing to take position behind him, the mattress dipping as he sank his knees next to Sebastian’s calves. His hands gripped his hips - still so tender, his fingers shaky - and pulled him back against his body, the impressive girth of his cock brushing at his leaking hole. 

“Don’t make me beg,” Sebastian said, squirming in frustration as the man took his time to look at him, “I will if I have to, but I’d rather you’d just put that thing in me and save the talking for later. We’ll have plenty of time for that when I’m hanging off your knot.”

Cullen gasped, lining himself up with haste and sinking inside slowly. Too slowly, for Sebastian wasn't in the mood for slow and steady, and such ways wouldn't sate his hunger tonight. A brash push of his hips resulted in the man getting buried all the way in, the beginning of a knot entering with an exquisite burn. 

Cullen was saying something, but he couldn't quite catch it as he savoured the feel of the cock stretching his insides. He couldn't bring himself to mute his pleasured gasps as he rose to his fours and began canting his hips back and forth, taking what he needed so badly. A glance at the man told him all he needed to know: deep red had risen to his cheeks, his glazed eyes fixed on where they were connected, his chest pulsing with erratic breaths - his reluctance wasn't for the lack of want.

“Maker’s breath, Sebastian,” he breathed, his mouth open and a desperate edge to his voice.

“I-- I’ll ride you to sunrise if you’ll just fuck me,” Sebastian pleaded, unable to keep his voice from quivering as he sought pleasure from the Alpha, the sass draining out of him as the sensations intensified with every move. How the man had such self-restraint, he didn't know, for he’d long since abandoned any shame for what he was; fighting these urges was a fool’s errand - he’d tried and failed all too many times.

The man behind him, however, became the man above him as he pressed his body down on his back, his greater weight pushing Sebastian to meet the mattress. An angle changed as he did so, and Sebastian couldn't help the whimper that fell off his lips, the sensation too much to quieten. Cullen began a slow but deep rhythm, grinding in as far as he could go, meticulously making him feel every delicious inch of him. 

Hands snaked from below his armpits and cupped his shoulders, keeping him snug in place as he was fucked, the dampness of Cullen’s forehead at the back of his neck. The staccato breaths turned into deep and measured ones, the blow of every exhale sending shivers down his spine as he was claimed, his slick hole welcoming every plunge it received. 

It was perfect, just like this; helpless beneath a force greater than himself, just as the Maker had intended; his needs met and his body filled by a powerful Alpha, every part of his form laid claim to. He voiced his satisfaction, his cheek denting his pillow as small moans formed in the depths of his throat, every push inspiring a new one. 

Cullen moved faster, angling for lopsided kisses, the grip of his fingers tighter as he kept plunging in. Sebastian tried meeting the mouth, longing for its softness, but the position wouldn't allow it, so he met the pushes instead, rising up to the best of his ability. Words fell out of him - no longer ones his Alpha would understand, for the common tongue had no expression for what he felt, whereas Starkhavenian did. The knot expanding at the base of Cullen’s shaft made him want to howl, its girth stretching his opening in the best possible way, but Sebastian tempered himself, grabbing the corner of his pillow between his teeth and gripping the sheets as hard as he could. 

“Oh, Maker, oh-- if you c-could only see yourself,” Cullen said, unsteady as he planted sloppy kisses on his shoulder, droplets of sweat falling out of him on Sebastian’s heated skin. 

The words made him mewl, the pillow softening the sound somewhat, but not enough to escape his Alpha: the punishing plunges became harder and faster, deliciously unbearable in their abandon. He wasn't sure how long he could take it; his body was on fire, blood pumping furiously inside of him, the strain of having gone unfulfilled for so long making every touch set his nerves alight, and every inch buried inside of him feel perfect beyond compare. 

“Please, Alpha-- please,” he whimpered, forcing the last of his coherence into the broken sentence, praying his need would come through. 

Cullen scrambled upwards, freeing a hand from under his shoulder and pulling at his hair with it, forcing his head into an awkward angle - but his hips snapped faster, the inflated knot pulling impossibly at his hole, making him cry out at the edge of pain until it moved no more. The first burst of seed shot deep inside of him, making him moan in tandem with his Alpha, hot spend unleashing from him and spoiling the sheets under him.

The world stood still as he bathed in the light - the light bestowed upon them by the Maker Himself - his form spineless, barely there, save for the warm liquid running inside of him, ever more of it pulsing out of his Alpha. He swam in the pleasure, his eyes drifting closed, relaxing his head on the pillow as the grip in his hair loosened. The pressure of Cullen’s body returned, its limp weight squeezing him against the mattress - and it was exactly where he wanted to be; encased by him, owned by him, there for him and him only. 

“Don’t ever forget about me like that again,” he mumbled, half-sleepy and his voice rough. 

Cullen chuckled, kissing his cheek and burying a hand in his hair. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s only been three days.”

“Three hours is too long - let alone three days,” he protested, but couldn't quite keep the amusement from his voice: he knew it was ridiculous to expect the Alpha coming around every day, but there were things that logic couldn't wrestle into submission. 

Chastity wasn't meant for Omegas in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	7. Rated R, Wild West AU, forbidden love, priest!Sebastian, cowboy!Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Can I have cullbastian. Kiss of need at the other person's place :)"
> 
> Wild West AU

The wide brim of his hat hid his face as he walked the dusty road, no-one but the Moon to keep him company. He passed the darkened windows of houses and shops, his steps brisk but unhurried - it wouldn't do to look suspicious should someone see him. Suspicion could get a man killed around these parts, and he wasn't ready to die, at least not before– 

Light spilled from the saloon and he glanced in, spotting no familiar faces, so he walked on, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. The church stood at the end of the road, its usually shabby figure strangely imposing in the darkness. He made a turn before reaching the double doors, slipping towards the graveyard, glancing behind his shoulder to confirm the streets were still empty. 

He didn't knock before opening the back door, nor did he greet the priest who was hunched over his writing table. 

“You came. I didn't dare hope.”

“I said I’d try,” he said gruffly, but couldn't help but return the priest’s smile. 

The priest lead him by the hand, grip dry but trembling, and he followed him willingly through the empty corridors into a small room, onto the rickety bed. With his hands set on either side of the priest’s head, he paused to look at him. His blue eyes looked dark in the pale light, but the desperation was as plain as day. His smile faltered under the scrutiny, insecurity taking root.

He kissed it away, needy and starved, his hands running down the priest’s sides, slipping under the clothes in a move much less experienced than it seemed. The heat between them grew, the priest’s gasps muffled against his neck as they rutted together, half-stripped clothes rustling in the silence of the room. It was only when his fingers - coated in lamp oil - pushed inside of him that he spoke again. 

“W-what are you waitin’ on?”

So he quit stalling, giving the priest exactly what he needed - what they both craved for - shaking at the feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	8. PG-13, Wild West AU, forbidden love, priest!Sebastian, cowboy!Cullen, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Kissing nor no reason at all, at a campfire. Cullen x anybloodyone, I'll love it no matter who it is."
> 
> So obviously it's some Wild West AU Cullbastian!

The flames were crackling, their inviting swirl reaching up towards the darkened skies, blinding to the eye but strangely alluring all the same. He watched them dance, their hypnotic sways sealing the peace of the moment. Two horses stood behind him, quiet as they recovered from a long day’s ride. 

His hand rested on top of an auburn head, his fingers twined in the soft strands, the tired priest snuggled against his chest. The night breathed in sync with their combined exhales, its gentle gusts bringing the smell of the prairies along with it. 

There was no need for words, but there were so many he wanted to say. He swallowed them, afraid of ruining their meaning with the insufficiency of his output. He snaked his arm slowly and carefully around the priest’s chest, bringing him closer, lifting him until he could rest his chin on his head. The scent of him was maddening, but - impossibly, by a contrast - calming. He sunk his nose into the auburn hair, inhaling as deeply as he dared. The man was like a drug he could never have often enough - a poison if he ingested too much at once. 

Father Sebastian Vael - a dangerous temptation, the sweet harbinger of his soul’s downfall.

Had he heard those words some months ago, he would have laughed, but as it happened, a man can change his views hard and fast when he finds himself pinned on a pew by the power of a blue-eyed stare and his beliefs disputed by a clergyman with hair as red as the devil himself. There was something wild there, a spirit trying to push free from its confines, and he’d realised it was a reflection of himself.

He leaned down and kissed him, for what else could he do?

The man in his arms sighed, his eyes drifting closed. He had never seen such beauty in a human being, but he’d long since quit trying to capture it in words, for he was not a man of prose. He lift his eyes back to the campfire, for going blind by the flame was safer than staring at temptation right in the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	9. PG-13, Wild West AU, established relationship, fluff, part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just some 1 AM self-indulgence.

His head is nestled in the priest’s lap, and there’s a low hum coming from the man. He doesn't recognize the melody, but it sounds like a traditional folk song - one that ought to be sung by a campfire after nightfall. A flock of birds lands in a nearby tree, their quips and tweets intertwining with the melody as if they knew the tune, a strange harmony in what ought to be cacophony. Fingers tangle in his hair, the very tips of them digging into his scalp, gently massaging him. A sigh leaves him, his lips staying parted, but eyes firmly closed - it’s a sunny day, and he’s contented to soak in the rays through his skin, and to listen and feel. The pad of a finger swipes at his lower lip, but it’s not fast enough - he presses a kiss to it just before it withdraws.

“You must be God’s favourite ‘cos he gave you a face like that.”

He chuckles because it’s all wrong; he’s nobody to God now, for his crimes to Him are greater than what he’s ever inflicted upon fellow man. But he laughs because he can hear the sincerity in the priest’s words, too, and it lights him up from inside and paints his cheeks scarlet.

The pad of a thumb rubs at his chin now, dabbing carefully at the hollow point in the middle of it. The priest hums again, for there’s a kind of a melody to his being that he can never hope to understand, but he yearns for the tune all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	10. PG-13, kissing, love confessions, forbidden love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Whispering “I love you” between kisses

At first he wasn’t sure what he was hearing; Sebastian’s breaths were unsteady and loud, and the smacks of their lips bounced off the walls as they clashed against each other.

“Tha gaol–” Hands gripped at his back, scrunching skin and fabric alike, bruising in their strength. Hidden away in the basement of the chantry, but shameless here - both of them. A pull, a nibbling bite, his lower lip stolen between those of his secret lover.

“– agam –”

A hand pulled at the back of his neck, their noses colliding a little painfully as he was yanked closer in. He couldn’t help the chuckle that was instantly muffled by the insistence of the plush lips, a rumble of laughter vibrating from Sebastian’s chest straight onto his.

“Tha gaol–” directly into his mouth, followed by a tongue that curled wickedly, the strange words distorted by the effort. His own tongue was coaxed into Sebastian’s mouth - lustful and hungry - a playful sweep at the underside of it as he tried to pull it away.

He lowered his hands from Sebastian’s cheeks, pausing to caress his neck on the way down, circling his arms around his shoulders and bringing them flush together, seamlessly slotting the smaller man against him as they kept kissing.

It was a trick: he broke off from the kiss, grabbing him by his shoulders, holding their bodies apart and bringing their foreheads together. “Is- is there something you want to say?” he managed, out of breath and light-headed.

The Brother chased his lips, angling his head to recapture them, but he dodged the attacks - but only because he wished to hear it.

“Yes, but,” Sebastian sighed, ducking his head in defeat only to surge forward again, animated anew, trying for his lips and failing.

“Say it,” he prodded, his grip on the shoulders firm, his thumbs rubbing him through the robes. “Say it, and you’ll get what you want.”

A frustrated breath left Sebastian, his forehead pushing hard against his own - willful, fighting him to the last minute. “Tha gaol agam o-ort.”

He smiled, twisting his head to press their lips together once again. For that, he needed no translation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	11. PG-13, Wild West AU, hurt/comfort, kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: _Let's run away together._

His footsteps are heavy on the church floor. The old flooring gives as he moves, whining under his weight, its creaks and cracks the only sounds in the empty room. Only two candles burn by the altar, their gentle light guiding him as he goes, every step slower than the one before. 

Maybe there’s another way? Maybe he was mistaken - maybe it wasn't their dog, after all? Maybe he can linger just a few more days?

He stops entirely, rubbing the back of his neck and looking out of a window. There’s nothing there but darkness - it’s new moon, and it’s the perfect time to disappear into the night and see how far he can run before they hunt him down again. A new chance in a new town - doomed to fail, but the only chance he’s got.

Only Sebastian won’t be there.

He sighs, deep and wretched, and walks on.

\---

Sebastian’s hands are on his face before he’s had the chance to say hello; fingers brushing at his stubble as he’s examined, concerned eyes searching his. “What’s wrong?”

He steels himself, gathering a fistful of his pants in his hand to keep from touching, because it would only make this worse. He ought to step back, let the priest’s hands fall off his face, but he can’t - can’t say no to him, can’t deny him in any way, and that’s what makes this so damn hard. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

The hands slide off his cheeks and onto his chest before slipping off of him entirely, and the world around him crumbles - only the walls are still sturdy, the floor underneath him is solid, and it’s not fair on him at all, because it means he has to carry on despite this. 

Sebastian slumps back into his chair, head hanging and hands crossed in his lap. “Why?”

He tells him, because he can’t deny him the truth. He tells him how he’s being hunted, how a gang of mercenaries is tracking his trail, their damned mutt sniffing after him. He tells him of the years he’s spent in exile, never stopping for more than a few months at a time, always hoping to stay, but always tracked down in the end. He doesn't tell him why they’re chasing him - he would if he asked, but he doesn't ask. 

“I’ll come with you,” he says instead.

And he should say no, but he can’t - he’s too selfish, too starved for him. He grabs his face in his hands and kisses him, relief and gratitude pouring through. “It’s gotta be tonight,” he breathes against his lips, praying he won’t change his mind. 

He doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos are always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	12. PG-13, fluff, the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Oh, are you ticklish?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the world of a larger fic that's still entirely unposted. What you need to know is that Cullen and Sebastian were together during the events of DA2, splitting up a bit before the Chantry explosion. Ten years later, a chain of events brings them back together again.

The early morning sun shines through the window into the Prince’s small room, painting the man’s skin golden brown - glorious and unmarred, unlike Cullen’s own battle-scarred hide. He yearns to feel the warm rays playing on the nude body, to run his fingers along the curve of his side and memorise its texture should this be nothing but yet another dream. The man lays awake by his side, but he finds himself hesitating; ten years apart changes things, and all of this feels like a gift of mercy granted to him.

He cannot assume Sebastian craves for his touch the way he longs to feel him, so he smiles instead, pressing his hand to his own thigh to keep it from straying. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

Sebastian snorts, rolling his eyes as he stretches fully awake. “Will you ever stop calling me that?”

This is familiar territory; playful banter, paused for a decade but easily slipped back into, as if no awkwardness ever existed between them, as though the years apart blurred out of focus like some insignificant childhood memory. He laughs, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I don’t think I shall, Your Highness.”

Sebastian sighs, lips drawn together, nodding in mock solemnity. “You always were impossible, leannan,” he mourns, his hand cupping Cullen’s cheek as he studies him, blue eyes wondrously bright.

His goofy smile falters at the word, body stiffening as Sebastian’s hand travels to his neck and further downwards, caressing the length of his arm before slipping underneath to hold at his side. He dares not breathe, for he’s back on unfamiliar terrain; certain rules had applied back in Kirkwall, but such frames no longer existed. The previous night had held ample proof of a new aspect to them, but something in him still refuses to believe his hands and lips could roam freely. 

Sebastian’s thumb catches him by surprise as it brushes his side - gently, barely there - and he twitches, a gasp escaping him before he can think to stop it. 

“Oh, are you ticklish?” Sebastian asks, placing the hand back on his cheek, coaxing a smile out of him as his thumb smooths the skin just underneath his lips. 

“No,” he says, and it’s the truth: he’s not ticklish - he’s enthralled, living and breathing every moment as though time had slowed and a false move could send him spiralling back to the dreariness of reality, for surely his life couldn't be like this. 

He chuckles, a little pained, as he realises what his hesitation must look like to Sebastian. His hand trembles as it covers the one on his cheek and he presses a small kiss to the tip of the man’s thumb. “No, I'm just– I can’t believe this is real.”

The smile that grows on Sebastian’s face is perfect, and he can’t help but reach out and trace it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	13. PG-13, Wild West AU, holding hands, UST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can I prompt you for WWAU hand holding?

He sits in silence on the uncomfortable pew, his eyes closed and fingers entwined as he listens to the sermon. He needs the words, but preferably without the distracting vision of the priest delivering them. It has been exactly two weeks since he stumbled into town, and exactly two weeks since this special type of torment began; he had barely slept since the priest entered his hotel room while he was bathing.

Had he known he’d look like that, he never would have invited him in.

His thoughts are interrupted as the church-goers rise from their seats and take their leave. He makes a half-hearted attempt to follow them out, but his feet are slow and he can’t seem to force himself. He can feel the piercing blue eyes fixed on him, but he’s too much of a coward to meet them, so he nudges onwards.

“Cullen!” the priest calls out suddenly, catching up to him, laying his hand on his shoulder.

He musters his best smile, feels it tremble on his lips as he meets the priest’s eyes - so bright and so sincere - and nods at the man. “Yes, Father?”

The priest seems to hesitate, his hand falling off of Cullen’s shoulder. “I, uhh,” he bites his lip, glancing somewhere over yonder before he continues, “I’ve noticed you come here often, and it– it seems to me you could use this.”

He notices the heavy-looking book between them as the priest offers it to him. He grabs it by the spine and steadies it on the palm of his other hand. “I can’t r– I mean… thank you.”

A hand covers his own under the Bible, cutting off his breath, and he shoots his eyes to meet the priest’s in disbelief. The blue eyes have gone wide in trepidation, and a faint flush rises to the man’s cheeks as their position holds. He ought to pull away; this might be a trap, but he can’t move - not when a thumb brushes the back of his hand with such tenderness, not when it seems just as hard for the priest to draw away.

“I can’t read,” he hears himself exhale.

—

Sebastian’s finger underlines every word he reads out loud from the Bible rested between them, his side warm against Cullen’s own. He wants to capture the finger, to bring it to his lips and pepper it with kisses, but he hesitates to stir the moment. He’s nodding along, repeating the words he hears, but his eyes keep escaping from the print: he watches the slow movements of the man’s lips and admires how the campfire light dances on his face.

“That’s enough for tonight, I think,” the priest says, closing the book and setting it aside, “since you’re not makin’ an effort.” There’s a smile tugging at his lips that tells Cullen’s he’s not held in contempt.

“If you stopped lookin’ so good for one minute, I might actually have a shot at learnin’ somethin’.” He grins as Sebastian chuckles and shakes his head in fond exasperation.

They fall into comfortable silence, his grin melting into a warm smile as the priest’s hand finds his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	14. PG-13, fluff, kissing, hidden feelings, bedsharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "It's valentines day in thedas for Cullen too. What does he do or buy for: Sebastian Carver Dorian Iron Bull Alistair?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I don't fill the prompt, but write a totally self-indulgent fluff piece and experiment with third person omni POV.

Brother Valentinus’ day in Thedas is usually spent treasuring our sweethearts, pampering them with gifts and attention. This, however, was not quite how the hero of our story, Ser Cullen Rutherford, an accomplished Templar of the Order and the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi, celebrated the holiday. He looked every part the eligible bachelor racy romance novels love to describe, but Ser Cullen was not cut from that cloth - not when it came to his personality, at least. There were numerous suitors that wished to impress the handsome young man, sure, but the idle fantasies of young men and women alike seemed to die rather quickly when they attempted to flirt with our shy hero. 

With that brief introduction out of the way, let us proceed to the story of how Ser Cullen spent a very unusual Brother Valentinus’ day, not too many years ago. 

We find our hero brooding in his quarters, head hung between his shoulders as he’s wracking his brain for an excuse to skip the evening mass: it is his duty to attend, to lead the others by example, but he has been severely overworked for many weeks, and exhaustion has seeped deep into his bones. He wants nothing more than lay his head on the pillow and doze off - perhaps tomorrow shall see him in brighter spirits should he be allowed the evening off.

He takes to Knight-Commander Meredith’s office, and finds her smiling at a card - a very peculiar, private type of smile he hasn't seen on her face before - and he finds the courage to ask her for leave, which she promptly grants, clearly distracted by whatever news she has just received. He thanks her and makes for a quick exit before she can change her mind. 

It doesn't take long before he’s asleep in the safety of his modest bed, and forgive me for specifying this, but a puddle of drool quickly forms on his pillow as he slumbers - so deeply is he wrapped in the visions of the Fade. 

However, this is not all there is to this story. While our hero sleeps, the mass is held in his absence: the Gallows sees the arrival of the Sisters and Brothers from the Kirkwall Chantry - dressed in dark robes, their faces quick to smile, words of comfort ready on their lips. One of them in particular - Brother Sebastian Vael - is exceedingly pleased to set his feet on the island and perform his Holy Duty to the Maker. It may or may not be the only reason for his good spirits, but whatever ulterior motives he may have, he does not wish to reveal.

The mass begins as it always does: the Brother singing among the rest, awaiting for Grand Cleric Elthina to begin her sermon. His eyes sweep the chapel, but no head of blond curls captures his sight - he discovers our hero is absent, to which he reacts with dread. It is highly unusual - completely unheard of, in fact - for the Knight-Captain to sit out a mass, so the Brother asks a nearby Knight for information and discovers that our hero has taken ill.

You would think that an undetected escape would be impossible in this situation, but our Brother is not an ordinary clergyman; years of rogue training have made him subtle and fluid in his movements, so he slips away from the chapel, rushing up staircases and jogging through long hallways until he reaches a door he is fairly sure leads to our hero’s private quarters. 

The Brother knocks and our hero responds with an unintelligible groan, prompting him to rush into the room and kneel by the beside, concerned questions falling from his lips.

What our Brother doesn’t know is that our hero is not quite awake; the Fade has formed a collection of rather amorous visions in his head, the latest of them starring none other than the Brother in question, safely wrapped in his arms as they recover from post-coital bliss. Our hero finds it impossible to tell that the man before him is the real Brother Sebastian - not the one from his dreams - so he tugs at the robes insistently, begging him not to leave just yet.

The Brother goes willingly, but not before a beat of stunned silence, laying himself next to our hero who captures his lips in a brief kiss, pulls him closer against his chest, and falls back into sweet slumber. Our Brother stays perfectly still, telling himself that he’s doing the Maker’s work by offering comfort to a believer in peril, and that there are no selfish motives to his actions. The thoughts, however, cannot be maintained for very long, for the strong arms and steady chest of our hero lull him into comfort in no time.

Needless to say, the morning after began with mortification and disbelief. This story, like the ones I usually find worth telling, was destined to have a happy ending; eventually our hero gathered up the courage to seek out our Brother and confess his feelings. But that is a story for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments (including concrit) and kudos always welcome. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	15. Rated R, first time, broken chastity vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I've wanted this for so long.”

The first time it happens is in the chantry basements, on a pile of hay kept there for the lambs and goats that tend to the chantry courtyard. It’s ticklish on Sebastian’s skin, but he pays it no mind: Cullen’s on him, his arms holding his smaller form. It’s slightly embarrassing how quickly he’s overcome; it’s been more than a decade since he last had another person in his way - there was never any hope he would last, not with the way Cullen finds his sweet spot and focuses all his efforts on it, and certainly not with the way he keeps saying his name: ‘Sebastian,’ in this room, not ‘Brother Vael,’ as he’s so used to hearing.

He spends between their stomachs, the hay rustling as he arches his back, stomach meeting Cullen’s. A strong arm circles his back and keeps them close together, and Cullen moves faster inside of him, gasping into his neck.

“Sebastian, oh Maker–"

He doesn't feel it when the liquid floods his insides; he never has before, but this times he’d like to - it’s Cullen, and he wants all of him, anything the Templar has to spare. He clenches as the man makes a move to pull out. “No,” he breathes, “stay. Please.”

Cullen does, lowering them down on the hay, his larger body covering him. They lay in silence, Sebastian’s body falling limp in exhaustion, but his mind is alert: he feels every point of contact, acutely aware of the warmth that seeps into his body from Cullen’s, every breath against his neck making his heart swell. He could fall asleep like this, completely owned and taken, every nook and crevice of him filled by Cullen in one way or another.

“Are you alright?” the Templar finally asks, by some Maker-given blessing not making an effort to part from him.

“Yes, perfect.”

“You don’t regret–”

“Never,” Sebastian interrupts, nudging at Cullen’s temple. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

A trembling fingertip makes it to his cheek, a palm coming to cup his jaw, hesitant and slow. “Then I am glad.” Cullen’s body relaxes against him, pressing him deeper into the hay, and he can feel the smile against his neck. He’s glad, too. So very glad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile every time! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	16. PG-13, outsider pov, Starkhaven glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the world of my yet-unreleased Cullbastian post-Trespasser story and takes place after everything's settled between Cullen and Sebastian.

People said it was an open secret that the Prince of Starkhaven was involved with his Commander. Seneschal Lange had heard the gossip all the way to Tantervale, but had disregarded it as a rumour meant to harm the Prince’s reputation. After all, it would have been scandalous for a ruler to keep an unwedded lover - especially so if said ruler was of Chantry background. Such things never happened in Tantervale, and surely Starkhaven - despite its extravagant luxuries and gluttony for sin - wasn’t so different in that regard. It was, however, becoming glaringly apparent that there was a seed of truth to every lie; the Commander had joined the evening festivities, his tall form never straying far from that of the Prince.

It was to be the last dance before dinner would be served and the Seneschal looked in dismay at the proceedings; the sumptuous ballroom was full of well-dressed people, carefree and exuberant as they waltzed. He frowned as a young couple close by laughed, loud and so very… Orlesian.

The only person that looked less amused than him was the Commander, his discomfort painting his cheeks pink. Lange watched as the man stared at the Prince - who was deep in conversation with Lord Chancellor Vogel - his eyes never straying, not even for a moment. He wondered if the Prince inspired such dedication in all of his men; the Commander stood like a personal guard would, constantly on alert.

In this Maker-forsaken city of sin, a ruler would need faithful supporters like him, Lange mused, vaguely impressed despite himself.

The orchestra finally faded its last tune, the merciful dinner bells ringing and scattering the dancers. Lord Chancellor joined him and the diplomats - all of whom had succumbed to the idle pleasure of dancing - gathered around them, wide smiles stretching their faces. “Prince Vael is such a fine man, isn’t he?” the Lord Chancellor raved, hitting Lange on the back a little too hard for comfort.

He couldn’t deny it; he did seem like an outstanding fellow, pious and upright - so unlike most people in this room. He sought out the man with his eyes, spotting him at the very edge of the room with the Commander. Their hands were linked and the Prince held them close to his chest, as if reassuring the Commander of something, their faces inches apart as they talked.

Good. Such unwavering loyalty should not go unrewarded. Starkhaven had grown an important trading partner in recent years, and despite his sour spirits, he was glad to see how well the Prince treated those under his command. He was sure that’s all it was - camaraderie - as no secret lovers would surely be seen together in such a way.

—

“Have you any idea how distracted you made me? Staring at me like that the entire time?” Sebastian complained, albeit half-heartedly, a barely suppressed grin tugging at his lips.

“That was not my intention,” Cullen responded, flexing his fingers in Sebastian’s grip, “I’m sorry.” He drifted a little closer, his eyes fluttering shut as Sebastian’s scent entered his nostrils; he’d never been a refined man who could tell notes apart, but he’d always known what he liked. He sighed, pulling away an inch - this was not the time to get carried away. “We shouldn’t be seen like this. Not by them.”

“Ah, but they will only see what they want to see. Trust me on that - Vogel has become quite senile and his seneschal is famous for his incompetence,” Sebastian bit his lip to get his mischievous smile under control, “Besides, I’m not about to hide you like I was ashamed of you. I’m not.”

“And what of our people?” he couldn’t help but ask, resisting the urge to see how many of them were looking their way.

Sebastian laughed, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing them. “Let them talk. I’m quite done with secrets.”

The fond expression on his face left no ground for arguing, and his statement even less so; secrets had proved to be their undoing in the past and Cullen wasn’t about to endanger his second chance. He couldn’t quite conceal his smile as Sebastian lead him to the dining room, their fingers still linked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seneschal Lange:  
> 
> 
> Comments and kudos make me smile every time! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	17. PG, fluff, stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lily - Majesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh, writing about my _still_ unreleased longfic world. It's coming along, I promise - I'm just slow and prefer writing short vignettes.

The city of Starkhaven looked so very small from here, its tall walls unimpressive from his vantage point. Not a soul walked the dimly-lit streets at this time of the night, and he was grateful for the silence; it was a sign he’d done his work right. Starkhaven slept in peace while its ruler sat on the roof of the Fortress, his lover quiet by his side. 

Cullen leaned back on the cold stones of the roof, his gaze fixed to the sky, a small smile on his face. Not a cloud obscured the vision before them; the stars were out in full force, the constellations dotting every spot visible to the naked eye. Taking one last look at the peaceful city below him, he laid down next to Cullen, warmer as an arm sneaked under his neck and rested on his chest. 

He gazed upwards at the majesty of the Maker’s creation, the sight stunning him with its spectacular beauty. It was then that Cullen started speaking, pointing at the sky, telling him the names of the constellations and the stories behind them. He listened, enraptured, as his lover related old werewolf legends from Ferelden, and stories of unlikely heroes whose forms were forever painted on the sky by the Maker’s brush, and tales of lovers torn apart by wicked parents, and of Andraste’s allies who sacrificed themselves to become stars in the heavens. 

Cullen’s voice was steady and calm, his fingers drawing absent-minded circles on his chest. It occurred to him that he could stay here all night, quiet and perfectly content to do nothing but listen to the man’s soft breaths as the warmth of his body seeped to his. It was moments like this that made him feel alive again, the weight of the crown lifting to give way to childish wonder. It was nights like this that made him feel human again, small and insignificant in the vastness of the Maker’s kingdom.

He huddled closer to his lover, leaning his cheek on his shoulder, his eyes drifting shut as the man continued telling stories of long-forgotten kings and wild barbarians, and for a moment he was sure he would float away if it wasn't for the solid arm around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile every time! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	18. Rated R, angst, non-explicit smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An experiment in second person POV.

It’s hard to get enough once you’ve had a taste. It’s hard to stop your feet from walking to the chantry; the newly established temple of sin, your reprieve and your condemnation. It’s impossible to cool the blood rushing hot inside you as he squirms in your lap, wanton and obscene, impatient whines falling from his lips as you make him wait for it - maybe this time he’ll change his mind, maybe he’ll come to his senses. You know you never will.

When he begs, it’s hard not to hold him closer and guide him down on you, your breathing ragged on his neck as the wait continues. He’s done this so many times, with countless of people, but you? He’s your first, and you can’t help but think the yes will turn into a no when he finally sees you for who you really are - a scared little boy, hopelessly in love with the bold, bigger boy.

He finally slides down on you - you let him - and you want to cry because of how he groans, like you’ve given him something special he’s never had before. It’s hard not to whisper your love when his arms pull you to his chest, his muscles gripping you everywhere, your whole world nothing but him. But it’s his name you whisper, and it means everything; how you’d love to die right here, his face the last thing you’d see, his tight embrace the last thing you’d feel.

It’s hard to accept that this is all you’ll ever get. It’s everything, but it doesn’t count because it’s stolen; everything in his life is ruined because of you. But you? You risk very little; you’re not bound by promises - promises he broke because of you, and still you’re left wanting more from him. It’s hard to think he’ll cry in his room when you’re gone, and you - you’ll come back tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile every time! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	19. NC-17, smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See how far I can stretch five sentences! It's a game McLavellan and I play. This is my longest try so far - 349 words, to be precise. Anyway, here's some smut.

_Slap, slap, slap…_ the sounds came in a steady rhythm, each one of them followed by a moan - or a whimper, depending on the angle he tried; it was a game Cullen delighted in: how to draw a broken sound from his Prince, and how to make each one more desperate than the one before.

_Slap, slap, slap…_ “T-touch m’ - _please_ ,” Sebastian whined, but Cullen ignored it - and ignored the shivers that ran down his spine at the words, and at how utterly debauched the man looked, and at how ragged were the breaths that fell off his open lips, and at how a sliver of drool dropped down to his chin, and at how weakly the man’s trapped arms trembled underneath his own - no, Sebastian didn’t need a touch; this much he knew from experience.

_Slap, slap, slap…_ keep breathing and stay adamant; the Prince was nearly there, his muscles clutching their death grip around Cullen’s cock, almost as if resisting his thrusts when everything else about the man begged for more - he was so close, and if Cullen could twist the angle just so and drive in hard, the man would lose control; hopefully before he himself did.

_Slapslapslapslap…_ Sebastian whimpered, long and fragile, his voice broken by every punishing snap of Cullen’s hips, his eyes closed as he leaned on the wall, every muscle of his back shivering against Cullen’s sweaty chest - and when Cullen changed changed the angle the slightest bit, the man let out a sound that would have been a shout had it not been so tortured, so utterly lost.

_Slap, slap, slap…_ Cullen went slower, his movements aimed to satisfy, to soothe, and - most of all - to steady himself, for it could be but five minutes until he was needed again - this was what it was like to serve his love, and he wouldn’t stop even if the world was ending - and then he pulled the man away from the wall and into his arms, driving as deep as he could and staying there, grinning against Sebastian’s sweaty curls: “Ready for more?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile every time! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


	20. PG-13, pre-relationship, jealousy, flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”

Brother Sebastian laughs so easy. The corners of his eyes crinkle in delight, the dimples on his cheeks deepen, and a flash of white teeth and pink tongue peek from behind his full lips. Cullen has never before heard the sound that echoes from the stone walls of the Gallows; it’s rambunctious and real, so unlike the nervous chuckle he pulls from the man whenever he tries to amuse him. 

Hawke watches Sebastian with a pleased smile before turning to Cullen, his eyebrows rising in question. 

Cullen’s mouth is dry and hot blood pumps through him, thumping in his ears like war drums, heat spreading from his neck to his cheeks. This ragged apostate not only gets to have Brother Sebastian - sweet, darling Sebastian - for company, but he gets to hear this. Somehow this man elicits genuine joy, while Cullen can only start awkward conversations and spark the occasional smile. 

“I would be on my way if I were you, Hawke. Don’t think I mistake your staff for a walking cane.” 

The words are out before he can stop them, each dripping with thick, black venom that pulls his lips to a scowl. He straightens his back, crossing his arms on his chest, and swells in size – or perhaps it’s Hawke that shrinks under his gaze.

Sebastian’s laughter goes out, and just like that, the charge humming underneath Cullen’s skin dissipates.

Hawke turns and walks away without a word, his elven companions in tow, but Sebastian lingers behind. The skin around his eyes is smooth like glass, his mouth a straight line, and the dimples – they’re gone too soon, almost as if he never had them. Sebastian’s icy stare dampens the flames flickering in Cullen’s veins at the thought of Hawke - cursed, wretched Hawke - and he stiffens like a statue. Never has he seen this cold disapproval painted on the Brother’s face.

“Why did you threaten my friend?”

There are so many answers - so many things he’s thought up before: Hawke is dangerous, he’s an apostate, he’s crude, he has no respect for the Order or the Chantry… but none of them ring true. He’s under Meredith’s protection for now, and Cullen wouldn’t really care if it wasn’t for– “I apologise, Brother Sebastian. It was a mistake and I will not do it again.”

Sebastian tilts his head, clearly sceptical, but the rigid glint has softened from his eyes, and his fingers twirl around the end of his bow as though he’s nervous. “Surely there’s a reason.”

“It’s because I’m in love with you.” 

Oh, blessed Andraste, he did not say that out loud, did he? Blood thumps in his ears once more as he watches Sebastian’s eyes widen and mouth open. His mortification grows as colour spreads on Sebastian’s cheeks, almost the dusky red of his lips. He swallows as he sees the dimples again, bites his lip as the crinkles form in the corner of the man’s eyes, all the while feeling too small for his armour.

It takes all his restraint not to run when Sebastian chuckles, low and nervous.

“Well,” the man breathes, “maybe you should try courting me, then? It might endear me better than you scaring my friends.” A hand rests on his pauldron and Sebastian’s smile is wide - lovely and real - as he leans into Cullen’s space; “In fact, I can almost guarantee it.”

It’s so very typical of him to say the wrong thing when he means to stay silent, and to have no voice at all when he would like to say so many words - and so he stares, dumbstruck, as Sebastian walks away, a certain lightness to his step Cullen has never seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile every time! I welcome concrit on my work. Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://cullenlovesmen.tumblr.com)!


End file.
